Dates One and Two
by hotchityhotchhotch
Summary: Oneshot. Hotch and Emily's first date doesn't end on such a tasty note. Can they make up for it? Written off the prompt "food poisoning" for nyte-nurs. COMPLETE.


**A/N: This is for my lovely medical beta, nyte-nurs. Her prompt was "food poisoning." Enjoy! Ironically, she might cringe at the timeline of the food poisoning. Just suspend your disbelief :)**

**Warning: flufffffffff**

Emily knew immediately upon seeing Hotch take the first bite out of his barely dead cheeseburger that there was a good chance of him spending the night in front of the toilet. She hadn't said a word, though. She'd simply watched him wolf down the pink, bloody meat, and hope with all her might that she'd be wrong.

Hotch was sweating profusely by the time he walked Emily to her door. She wasn't sure how long this type of chivalry would last—the door-opening, the waiting until she was seated until he himself sat—even though they'd eaten at a bar of all places—but she loved it. Most would probably pin her as some sort of pseudo-feminist since she rarely dated and was a strong, independent woman. But chivalry was something she really appreciated. However, after the first date, she usually found that it disappeared. She supposed once date number two with Hotch rolled around, she'd figure out if he was just like everyone else.

_Well, not so far_, she thought when Hotch hunched over the bushes by the front door of her apartment building and heaved. She was grateful she had a strong stomach. "Come on," she said gently once Hotch seemed done with the first round.

"I should get home," Hotch said with the back of his hand to his lips.

"And puke all over your car? I don't think the smell of vomit comes out easily. Come on." She inserted her key, laughing inwardly at the lost prospect of a goodnight kiss. She would never let a man kiss her on the first date; it was one of her codes. She might have made an exception for Hotch had he tried, but he probably had rules when it came to that, too. Not that it mattered, seeing as how they definitely weren't going to kiss now. Hotch didn't issue any further argument as he followed Emily up two flights of stairs and into her apartment. "Bathroom's on the right," she said.

"Thanks," Hotch sputtered before he staggered toward the hallway bathroom and started round two, almost not making it in time. He flushed and sunk back against the wall. "Sorry," he said when Emily showed up at the bathroom door, her little black dress no longer accompanied by the heels Hotch has been staring at whenever he'd gotten the chance to do so undetected. She said nothing.

With a warm smile, she hiked up the hem of her dress just a little and sat down on the floor, proffering a wet washcloth as she did.

"Thanks," Hotch said, opting to press it against the back of his neck.

Emily couldn't resist the urge. "Might help you cool down if…" She reached out her hands tentatively for the lapels on Hotch's suit jacket, which he let her push off of his arms. It dropped behind him and he re-situated his washcloth. She then moved to the knot in Hotch's deep purple necktie.

For how miserable and embarrassed Hotch was at the moment, he was surprised he could feel anything remotely sexual. But his stomach lurched in a very welcome way when Emily's small fingers brushed against his neck in an attempt to loosen the knot. He tried not to lick his lips as Emily leaned further forward, deepening the cleavage that had already been more than generous. She slid the entire tie off, tossed it aside, and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt.

"That better?" she asked.

Hotch took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It appeared to Emily as if Hotch was taking such a deep breath to test out whether that had helped, but he was instead focusing all his attention on puppies and kittens. He nodded and moved the washcloth from the back of his neck to his mouth.

"I'll get you another," Emily said, opening up the cabinet beneath the sink and getting out another washcloth. She got up onto her knees to turn on the faucet and wet it.

"Not the best first date on record," Hotch remarked apologetically, finally opening his eyes and being greeted by a closer view of Emily's ample ass than he'd ever had before. The vision was fleeting, though, as she soon sat back down on her feet.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when your burger is still mooing," Emily said, unable to help herself. "Lean your head back," she added gently, motherly.

Hotch obeyed and let Emily place the new cloth, folded, over his forehead.

"Feeling any better?" she asked.

"For the moment. Not over yet, though," Hotch said miserably.

"Oh, you're a food poisoning veteran, are you?"

"Yes. I've been eating rare burgers my entire life."

"Never learned your lesson?"

"An overcooked burger isn't worth the money."

"A _cooked_ burger, you mean?" Emily quipped.

Hotch's upper body lurched and he got up on his knees. Emily thought she could handle it, but the sound of his heaving had her heading for the hallway soon.

"I'm so sorry," Emily said, coming back into the bathroom when she heard the toilet flush. "I thought I could take it."

"It's okay," Hotch said, shaking his head. "I think I'm done."

"Really? That's good," she said, smiling as Hotch made his way to his feet, picking up his tie along the way. "Let me fix you some tea, help you settle your stomach a little more."

"Do you happen to have a spare toothbrush?" Hotch asked shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh, right! Follow me. I have one in my bathroom." As Emily handed over the still packaged toothbrush from beneath her bathroom sink, she didn't tell Hotch that she'd bought it for him when he'd asked her out a week ago. She'd gone to the store for some groceries that night and had been on cloud nine, though she would never admit that to anyone. When she had gone down aisle ten for toothpaste, she couldn't help but wonder if there would ever come a time where Hotch would need his own toothbrush at her place. She hadn't pictured him needing it for _this_ reason, but it felt nice to provide for him, all the same.

Hotch thanked Emily and set down his tie on the sink before Emily left her bathroom to fix the tea. Hotch was about to call after her when he realized she hadn't given him any toothpaste. With hesitance, he pushed in on the glass medicine cabinet door. It popped open, revealing a half-used tube of toothpaste among many other things Hotch knew he shouldn't be looking at. He got to brushing and cast a nervous glance over his shoulder before snooping with an extremely guilty conscience.

Band-Aids, a few stray bobby pins, and antibacterial cream proved to be rather uninteresting. A bottle of silicone-based lubricant was rather fascinating, though. It wasn't dusty, either. And it was half empty. Apparently she liked to have a good time in the shower and did so fairly frequently, and had done so fairly recently. He tried not to let this bother him, and shut the door quickly, before Emily had the chance to come in and check on him. He spat, rinsed, and brushed again for good measure. He was relatively certain he'd blown his chances of getting a goodnight kiss.

"I was wondering if I'd lost you forever," Emily said with a more seductive smile than Hotch had expected.

"I can't believe I threw up," Hotch chuckled, hiding his forehead behind his hand, "and on our first date. I'm…so sorry."

"It happens," Emily said nonchalantly. "Don't worry about it."

"Still, can I make it up to you?"

Emily shrugged and handed Hotch a steaming mug of tea. "The date was already over. You didn't exactly ruin it."

"Maybe we could get a start on date number two then," Hotch suggested. "All we really did was go out to dinner. I guess that wasn't the most original first date, either."

"Dinner is a good first date for a reason. Movies," Emily said, pointing at Hotch, who'd suggested going to see one, only to be shot down by Emily, "are a bad idea for a first date."

"Only because you're supposed to get to know each other when you start dating. We already know each other."

"Not from a romantic standpoint," Emily said, glad she had used the word 'romantic' without thinking about it. She knew that if she'd thought about it first, she would have talked herself out of it.

"Date number two, then," Hotch repeated. "My throwing up in the bushes outside ended date number one. Number two starts now."

Emily grinned and leaned over the kitchen counter propping her elbows up. "Okay, what are we doing on date number two?"

"Got any movies?" Hotch leaned against a bar stool and sipped his tea, trying to ignore Emily's breasts and keep his eyes level with hers. He hadn't had tea in quite a while. It heated him from the inside out, not that he needed help warming up.

"We just talked about how movies are a bad idea for a first date," Emily said.

"But this is a second date."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Touché. Still, the early stages…"

"It's not like we're in a theater. We can talk during it."

"All right, all right," Emily relented, leading the way into the living room.

Hotch tried to be respectful, tried not to stare, as Emily crouched over a shelf of DVDs. She pulled the elastic band from her hair and let it fall in a silken curtain around her shoulders, then fluffed it with her hands. "How about something we've both seen, so if we talk through it, we won't miss anything?"

"What are our options?" Hotch asked.

"I'm all for the classics. Ever seen _Annie Hall_?"

"More times than I can count." Hotch still stood, waiting for Emily to put the movie in and pick where she wanted to sit. When she turned around and saw him waiting, she smiled sheepishly.

"What?"

Emily gathered her hair over one shoulder and shrugged as she sat down on the middle of the couch. "You're just…a gentleman."

"After tonight, you really think that?" Hotch asked dubiously, sitting between Emily and the end of the couch and placing his arm over the back.

Emily leaned forward for the remote control, then cozied up into the opening Hotch left just for her. "I do. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Hotch felt no guilt in letting his hand fall down to the side of Emily's shoulder, where he caressed her smooth skin and got as many goose bumps as he gave.

"What are your views on kissing on a first date?"

"That sounds an awful lot like a trick question."

"It's not," Emily insisted. "First date is over, remember? If you hadn't lost your dinner, were you going to go for it?"

"If you would've let me, I suppose."

"You _suppose_? Come on, Hotch," Emily said, twisting so that she was almost chest to chest with him.

"I suppose a kiss on the first date isn't very gentlemanly. I probably wouldn't have."

"Second date, then?" Emily asked.

"Well, we're on our second date now. So that's definitely a trick question."

"Not a trick question. I promise."

"Wait…what exactly is the question again?" Hotch said.

"Is kissing on the second date acceptable?"

"Okay…If I say yes?"

"Just answer, Hotch, for crying out loud," Emily replied, laughing. She crooked two fingers over the open collar of his shirt.

Hotch looked from the television, which still just showed previews, down to Emily, whose eyebrows were peaked in question.

"Hmm."

Emily sighed. Her lips tingled, were already swollen. But she wanted to leave the door open for Hotch to remain a gentleman by his own definition.

Hotch slid his tongue out and wet his lips, noting Emily's resultant hopeful look. "Third date."

**A/N: Unlike most of my oneshots, this didn't really have a message, or a punch line, or anything like that. I hope it just brought a smile somewhere in the vicinity of your face :) Thanks to allthatisevil for the read-through.  
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**_Normally_ I don't intend to write sequels to oneshots, but if it's wanted, I would for this one. Just let me know. :)**


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